


Chasing the Moon

by goldfwish



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Hedwig Lives, Hugs, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-20
Updated: 2019-04-20
Packaged: 2020-01-22 20:58:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18535360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goldfwish/pseuds/goldfwish
Summary: A little story about an iceberg drifting through time, and a chase between the moon and the clouds.





	Chasing the Moon

**Author's Note:**

  * For [donnarafiki](https://archiveofourown.org/users/donnarafiki/gifts).



> For Donna's lovely prompt, because everyone needs more hugs in their life. <3
> 
> Thank you to [Lucille](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Etalice) for always being the most lovely and heartwarming beta.

The air that seeps in through the open window is cold, and it’s made all the colder by the restlessness that sits in Harry’s bones, the thoughts swirling in his brain, an aquarium whirlpool. Hedwig is perched on his desk in front of the window, and she cuts a figure of light against the dark clouds chasing the moonlight. 

He should be asleep, should be in bed, snoring away, but the night is too loud in its quietness, and he doesn’t want to break it, doesn’t want to wake up the night-time monsters in case they decide to make him their plaything.

He can’t sleep, but god he is so, so tired. He can barely muster up the energy to brush his teeth, and his head hurts, and it’s so, so cold; since when did silence feel so fucking cold? It’s making his skin raise and his cheeks droop, eyes heavy, but he can’t sleep because it’s too cold. And this, this feeling, these emotions, they’re an iceberg, melting, seeping into him, his sidewalk cracks.

It makes him crave warmth, real, proper warmth, heat that isn’t fabricated by a charm or matchstick. But it’s been too long, and he’s afraid that no one will want to give it to him.

He no longer feels tired. No, instead, he’s frantic, scrambling for something to hold onto, something to do, something so that he won’t start scratching the polish off the bed posts. And there: pen, ballpoint carving grooves into paper, filling them with dark ink. Melted iceberg blurring the lines together, except it’s not a fucking iceberg, it’s the tears creating a film over his vision, and it’s enough to almost suffocate him. 

_Someone hug me please._

The letters are shaky, and he throws the pen down, cold replaced with even colder anger for himself. It burns, and his hands tremble, so he collapses onto his bed, rolling over to pin them underneath his stomach, forcing himself to stop, stop, _stop_. 

He doesn’t notice Hedwig by the windowsill, doesn’t see her ruffle her feathers and shake her head, doesn’t see her yellow eyes and the sadness, the determination beneath them. Just hears a scuffle of talons on wood, a scratch of paper on paper, and a single hoot. And then silence, once again.

Harry remains there, shaking on his bed, until the silence is broken by the chime of the floo. It’s late, but it’s not unheard of for Ron or Hermione or even Molly to drop by in the hours just before midnight. But the cough (dusty fireplace) and the footsteps (creaky floorboards) that follow aren’t any of theirs, and it’s enough to make him sit up, eyes and ears alert, head tilted towards the open door of his bedroom.

White blond hair, light against the prickly shadows of the hallway. He moves into the room, and his face is warm, his eyes candlelight itself.

Of course. Draco.

How could Harry have forgotten? He hates himself for letting it slip past his mind, for letting the memories of soft touch and quiet conversation fade as his desperation for _something_ grew. But he’s here now. Draco’s here. 

Draco steps forward, and then he’s _right there_ , wrapping his arms around Harry and the iceberg _shatters_ , and it’s too much, too much heat. The tears spill out, running a river of cracks into his skin, and the shards of ice that were left over scratch inside his lungs, making each breath heave and rasp. Draco is rubbing soothing paths over his shoulders, his back, as Harry sobs into the embrace. 

One of them pulls, the other pushes, and they are laying down, pressing back against the pillows. Draco has one hand wrapped around Harry’s body and the other threaded in his hair, and Harry has both hands clenched in the folds of Draco’s sweater, wrinkling the soft material. The silence is no more, replaced by soft _shhh_ s and whispered words, hitched inhales and wet exhales, the _thump, thump_ of heavy shoes being kicked off. 

Eventually, the tears wane, and the iceberg is completely melted, candle flame stoked to a gentle fire, embers rising and logs crackling. The cold is gone, the silence no longer suffocates, and the moonlight has outrun the darkness outside, illuminating Draco, his features iridescent. Harry presses his face to Draco’s chest, and breathes in, inhaling his scent and his comfort.

Hedwig hoots somewhere by the desk, and Harry falls asleep to the steady, warm heat of Draco’s embrace.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on [tumblr](https://goldfwish.tumblr.com)!


End file.
